The Dark Lord Ron
by Reptar on Ice
Summary: The house is gloomy and dark. Hedwig is missing. The rooms are mismatched. And chicken blood is being poured into a goblet. There is something seriously wrong at the Burrow who in the world thought it would be a good idea to make Ron Weasley all powerful?


Although it might not seem it at first, this _is_ a parody. I have found quite a lot of Hermione as the Dark Lord and OC as the Dark Lord, but I felt as though perhaps Ron should have a day of power. I am working to pull as many old lore references as I can. I have to admit this is fun since, besides Riddle and Snape, Ron has the most anger out of all of them.

I would also like to note that I am merely one part of the trio that makes up Reptar on Ice. My stories are denoted by my name; the Sickly Satirist. My comrades also do excellent work and you should read them as well. This is a multi-chapter story.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or their world.

**

* * *

**

**The Dark Lord Ron**

It was the first time that Harry had ever entered the Burrow to find it without noise, excitement or warmth. The sun was just now going down, yet there was no-one and nothing in the yard and every shade in the small house was drawn. Harry suddenly noticed the movement of someone heading around the corner of the house, moving towards the door. He recognized the long red hair. "Ginny!" he called, his voice breaking through the gloom.

Ginny turned around and Harry registered something gruesome in the basket she was holding before they locked eyes. She held a finger up to her pale and drawn face and silently hushed him. Then she disappeared through the door. A sense of trepidation filled Harry and he looked around him once again, the fading sun casting long shadows everywhere. Still he had to move forward. He had left the Dursleys for the summer and this was the only safe place that he knew to go.

"Don't be silly," he muttered to himself, "This is _Ron's_ house. Maybe someone is sick." He couldn't entirely beat down the feeling of dread within him as he crossed the long yard and slowly opened the door to the Burrow.

It was dark and quieter by far than Harry had ever known it to be. He vaguely noticed that the only lights came from candles that were lit in little groups throughout the living areas. He wanted to call out to someone but the feeling of suppression was too thick to make a sound. Instead he walked softly into the kitchen where, through the flickering candlelight, he saw Molly Weasley.

"Oh hello Harry," she greeted him with a whisper as she took the beheaded chicken out of Ginny's basket and held the severed neck above a goblet, "I thought we should be expecting you."

"Right," Harry couldn't help but reply in a whisper as well. "I sent a letter awhile ago, but Hedwig never made it back."

Mrs. Weasley's lips pressed into a thin line but she forced it back into a smile as she wrung the remaining blood out of the chicken's body. She then put the mangled bird onto a chopping board and began hacking at it with a large knife. Harry felt slightly sick.

"Er…is everything alright, Mrs. Weasley?" Harry finally asked.

"What do you mean?" she whispered as she continued mincing the chicken, feathers and all, into a raw juicy mess.

"Is someone sick or did someone…die, or something?" Harry said, though he didn't feel like he was articulating the somberness quite right.

Mrs. Weasley turned the knife to the flat side and began pressing the shredded muscle, guts and intestines down. "Ginny, bring the yellow candle closer," Mrs. Weasley ordered, wiping away a strand of loose hair with the back of a bloody hand. "Everyone is in perfect health, Harry," she said in a steadily cheerful, though in a hushed voice. "In fact, we're better than usual."

Ginny moved forward and stood by her mother with the candle which further illuminated the misshapen mass. "Ack," Mrs. Weasley gave a small cry as she sliced the side of her own finger. A fair amount of blood spilled quickly from her finger and into the meat that she had been pulverizing.

Harry jumped at the sight, but neither Ginny nor Mrs. Weasley reacted except for the small cry that Mrs. Weasley gave. Mrs. Weasley glanced nervously around and then tapped her wand against the cut which healed instantly. Then, as though nothing had happened, she continued her work, her blood mingling with the redness of the meat.

"Um," Harry began nervously, "What exactly is that for, Mrs. Weasley?"

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said as she quit mashing the meat and began scraping it onto a large ornate platter. "This is just a little something for Ronald. He asked for it awhile ago, so we'd better hurry here."

She took the platter and the goblet and put it on a silver tray, arranging it so it was pleasing to the eye. "Mom," Ginny suddenly interrupted in a quiet voice, "Don't use the silver. Remember how angry that made…," she trailed off.

Mrs. Weasley's face went white and she stood still for a moment. "Get the iron one, Ginny," she said as she hurriedly removed the platter and goblet, "Reducto," she said as she pointed her wand at the serving tray. It immediately blew up, breaking and melting.

Ginny came back with the iron tray which Mrs. Weasley began to swiftly place objects on. "Gather up whatever pieces remain and hide them until one of the twins are free and then have them fully destroy it."

Ginny nodded quietly and began to sweep the still smoldering pieces into a dustbin. Harry felt dazed. Something was seriously wrong in the house, but he couldn't tell what. When Mrs. Weasley finally finished fussing with the platter, she stood up and took a deep breath while looking around. "Uh- Ginny," she said, "Why don't you go take this upstairs to your brother?"

"I've got to take care of these, mom," Ginny said in a slightly pleading tone. "I can't go up there right now."

"Right then," Mrs. Weasley said before turning to Harry with a smile on her face. "Harry, you haven't seen Ron since you got here. He's upstairs, go ahead and take this platter up to him. Oh, and he's sleeping where Mr. Weasley and I used to sleep, you know what room that is right?"

"Is Ron sick?" Harry finally asked. "Why isn't he coming down here on his own?"

"No," Mrs. Weasley said. "Everyone is perfectly healthy, pretty much." She had an arm around him now, steering him towards the dark stairway. "Go on up, Harry, we really shouldn't keep him waiting."

Harry turned around to say something to her, but she had already disappeared into the candlelit gloom. The only thing to do was to turn around and begin his trip up the stairs. It seemed like a longer than usual journey and even though Harry knew it by heart he kept glancing around, as though something were going to jump out at him. Whatever was going on in the Burrow frightened him, he realized.

At the top of the stairs he nearly ran into Percy. Percy's usually immaculate clothing was dirty as was his hair. Harry could see that one of the lenses in Percy's glasses was out and Percy had to squint to see him. "Hello Harry," Percy said in a loud and animated voice that startled Harry. "It's great to see you!"

"Percy," Harry began, "What's going on here? What's-"

Percy's voice suddenly dropped to a whisper and he grabbed Harry's arm. "You gotta help me get out of here Harry. We need to lea-"

The house suddenly shifted and a loud thunder echoed through it, along with the harsh sound of organ music. Percy let go of Harry's arm and stumbled backwards, Harry actually jumped and the goblet almost fell. "Well Harry!" Percy said in that same animated voice, "It was great to see you! If you need anything just holler."

Harry stared after Percy's shaking shoulders as he ran down the stairs. Seeing Percy in such a condition only heightened Harry's fear and he glanced down the hallway with extremely nervous eyes.

Harry had never actually been in Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom before and he felt very strange heading past Ron's old bedroom. He slowed his pace and glanced inside to see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bed shoved inside with the mattress overlapping part of the dresser. The door to Fred and George's room was shut and the room was silent. It suddenly struck Harry that he couldn't hear the ghoul in the attic.

Harry's pace slowed even further as he neared the end of the hallway. The door to the Weasley parents' room was half-open and there was a much brighter glow from inside, evidencing the amount of candles inside the room. Finally there was no more space for Harry to walk and he took a deep breath and reluctantly pushed the door open.

There were hundreds of candles everywhere so that it was blinding after the incredible gloom and darkness. What Harry finally saw when his eyes adjusted would have been enough to make him drop the tray had he not frozen.

The room had been emptied of a bed and dresser and filled instead with a throne. Near the throne sat a desk covered with parchment, a pen and red ink, and, quite strangely, a bag of coins. But more surprisingly were the _people_ in the room.

George and Fred stood on either side of the throne, both of them looking completely miserable. George had a large bruise on the side of his face and a cut at the top of his forehead that had bled down his face. His nose was bruised and bloody and swollen and it appeared that his wrist was broken. Fred, on the other-hand, had what looked to be healing injuries. They were fresh, but not as fresh as George's were, though he also appeared to be utterly miserable.

"Don't mind them, each one takes a day being the other's whipping boy. Today is George's turn. Tomorrow will be Fred's again. If only they would stop screwing up."

Harry followed the voice up to Ron, Ronald Weasley, sitting in the throne with his wand in one hand. His hair was slicked back and his face was paler than ever and over top of his muggle clothing he wore a black cloak. As Harry continued to stare Ron stood up and held out his hand. "Oh good, you brought me my meal."

* * *

And thus begins the saga of The Dark Lord Ron. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Everyone needs a laugh from time to time.

Please review.

-The Sickly Satirist


End file.
